The World Of The Revolution
by mysteryteenagelover
Summary: The oneshot happy ending version of the best movie of all time.


**Dedicated to MoniQ, who I love enough to write a Fic for during exam week.**

'Always this ridiculous obsession with _love_!' His father's voice echoed in his ears as he stared up at the ceiling. So much time had passed since he had last heard those words, spoken to him by the one man who Christian had thought would always be wise. But if France had taught him anything, it was that scepticism just didn't have a place in the revolution.

Freedom.

Beauty.

Truth.

Love.

Above all things, be believed in love. Love is like oxygen. Love … lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love.

Please, don't start that again. The soft-spoken words of Satine echoed in his ears. She had been wearing that red dress, with the satin bodice, the sparkling diamonds and the wild, untamed auburn hair that flew in the wind and danced in the moonlight on top of the building where she had sung to him. Where they had danced and kissed and loved. Where her pale skin had glinted in the lights of the windows, the darkness beyond safe and warm and comforting. How she had fit into his arms and he had been so sure that this was what he had come to Paris to find. This beauty, this love, this girl.

Before she had vanished away, back to the Moulin Rouge. Where the girls danced, their skirts swishing and moving about, and the men watched and paid them for their time, the colours and the music and the drink. Not just tales, told in passing from his friends when they were drunk. The Sparkling Diamond. After all he had heard, everything that had been told to him, nothing had ever captured the beauty and the energy and the love of the girl that was famous for her dancing. That first night, when light had shone off every silver sparkle on that dress, and she had jumped into the crowd, touching and singing and dancing.

And then she had closed her eyes, and shut her red lips and told him that she didn't love him anymore. That it would never work. And her pale wrist had lain across her lap as her head was bowed, speaking the words that would be the death of Christian, the words that he never wanted to hear – that love couldn't conquer all. And he imagined her with the Duke, under his hands, under his body. He couldn't stand it. He would go to the Moulin Rouge and challenge the Duke. Challenge him for the love of the woman that he loved. The Duke lusted after Satine, but he loved her. He did.

But Christian was never able to find the Duke, because he appeared and Satine was putting her reddened lips to his ear and telling him that the Duke wanted him dead, that the Duke wanted to kill him. All Christian wanted was Satine. He stood quietly inside the door, watching the play. Satine sparkled and sang and the unconscious 

Argentinean acted the part of the penniless sitar player. And in the front row, the Duke smiled at his ending, and Harry Zidler the Maharaja held Satine in his arms, the audience clapped, a magnificent array of sound and light and colour. And the acting troupe bowed on the stage, and glitter fell to rest in their hair. Satine smiled, that soft and beautiful tilt of the lips that made Christian love her and want to hold her, his hands on her waist.

He stood in the aisle, long after everybody left, when only Satine was left, gathering up her skirts and leaving the stage. Every so quietly, Christian began to sing.

"Never knew, I could feel like this. Like I've never seen the sky…before. Want to rummage inside your kiss. Every day I love you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you…everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring. But I love you…I love you. Until the end of time."

His eyes were so intent of Satine and her was so concentrated on singing the secret song and longing to have Satine back in his arms, that he was unaware of the Duke's henchman, behind him, a gun aimed at his head. He lifted the tone, and all of a sudden the Duke appeared on stage, embracing Satine, smiling his evil smile and then Satine turned. Her eyes were on him, her dress was shimmering and her hair was cascading over one shoulder. Her chin was set in a position of defiance at the Duke's touch. And suddenly, Christian heard the voice of an angel singing to the heavens.

"Suddenly the world…seems such a perfect place. Suddenly,n it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste."

Shrugging of the Duke's hand on her hip, Satine walked towards the edge of the stage and down the aisle. Together, the lovers sang from their hearts.

"And there's no mountain to high, no river to wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather, stars may collide. But I love you…I love you. Until the end of time."

She reached him and embraced his chest as if she hadn't seen him in years. Christian titled back his head at her touch, unable to believe that his love was back in his arms. The rustling of her dress against his shirt, the warmth of her body against his skin, her gentle breath on his neck, her fingers in his palm. The Duke let out a strangled roar and the man that Christian hadn't noticed behind him raised the gun, and aimed. Christian put a hand on Satine's beautiful hair and the two of them dropped to the stone floor. His lips touched hers briefly, and she clasped a hand to his chest. The bullet intended for Christian's chest fired down the aisle to the Duke, who was standing in front of the stage. Piercing his chest where his heart should have been, the bullet came to rest.

Satine's hair fell over Christian's shoulder as he crouched on the floor, one hand at her back and the other resting to the side of her fact to protect her. Her dress pooled on the floor at her feet, and Christian took her face with her other hand and 

pressed their lips together. Her raised voice of the other day came back to both of them. "I'm going away from here, away from you, and away from the Moulin Rouge!"

She took Christian's hand and he swept her up in his arms. And the two of the walked out of the door of the Moulin Rouge for the last time, and into the world of the revolution.


End file.
